Spelling Death
by Thorned Shadow
Summary: You cannot expect to live if you fail the Dark Lord. But Draco Malfoy is much too stubborn to die, and now he's hell bent on revenge against Voldemort. He thinks he needs no help, but someone has to melt the ice in his heart before he goes insane.
1. Failure

**Title: **_Spelling Death_

**Summary: **Death is what the Dark Lord hands you when you fail him. But Draco Malfoy defied that, and now he's back in Hogwarts for his final year with a fresh purpose in life. Bring down Voldemort and pay his life for his parents' death. Even if it means joining forces with the people he hates the most.

**Rating: **T for sexual content and violence

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and its characters and settings to not belong to me, only the liberty of playing around with them.

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"The Dark Lord does not tolerate failure, Draco."

The words were quietly spoken, as though dropped with no consequence. But the entire congregation shivered, half horrified, half anticipated at what actions would follow this quiet statement of displeasure.

"You failed to kill Dumbledore like I ordered you to. You failed _me_ Draco."

The dim light from the green bowl of flames next to the ornate armchair briefly illuminated the pale, skeletal face and merciless death defying snake eyes. The hooded figures forming a circle around the family of three in the precise middle shook again.

"I did not." The fire flickered, illuminating a handsome face framed by silvery blonde hair, "I did not fail you." The audience drew in a shocked breath. The tall male tightened his grip on the teenager's shoulders, and the beautiful woman clutched her husband closer to her frail body.

"You did not?" the hissing voice was deadly now, with the coldness of ice. Red met the numb silver eyes, "You say that you did not fail me? Please Draco, do explain."

"I found a flaw in the protections around the castle." The words lacked emotion, as though this young man had lost almost everything that kept him going, "I brought in your followers. Dumbledore is dead. Is this not what you have ordered?"

"Ah, Draco, Draco. I said that you must be the one to kill Dumbledore. And why do you say 'my followers'? Surely, everyone here is your comrade?"

A practiced sneer broke the stone haunting the young man's face, "Those people are no comrades of mine. They're your slaves." Gasps sounded all around at his boldness. Lucius moaned, "Oh Draco, why? You've doomed us all!" Narcissa whimpered.

The Dark Lord was smiling with his slash of a mouth. His eyes of death gazed into the ice gray of Draco Malfoy's. He knew the boy knew that he had no option left. He knew that the boy was willing die. And, ah, such a _beautiful_ death the Dark Lord would grand this foolish one.

"Tie the boy up. Take his wand."

The circle closed in like wolves on prey. Lucius and Narcissa screamed, begging their master not to do this to them, begging them to spare Draco's life. But long ago, the Dark Lord had renounced himself of his humanity, of his ability to listen to these cries. Draco was hanging like a marionette from magical bonds as the circle reformed to include him as a link, leaving only his parents in the middle.

Narcissa's beautiful eyes sought out his now frantic gray ones. One thin hand reached out as though to caress his face, "Draco, you must live! Do you understand me? Live, and live without these lies Lucius and I have buried ourselves with!" a black boot smashed down on her small hand, crushing it with its weight. Draco watched with silent horror as the heel of the boot ground into the delicate bones, snapping them. Lucius screamed like a madman and lunged for the attacker, but someone else held him down. Narcissa, crying now, managed to yank her hand back and cradle it in her lap.

An ordinary boy would be begging long before now, begging for mercy, for relief for his mother's pain. But Draco Malfoy had lost every bit of 'normality' left within him this past year. He had finally realized that caring and love only got you into trouble, into pain. So bit by bit, stone by stone, chip by chip, he had built of his fortress. A wall so high none could see the real him. A wall so thick made of broken dreams, a predetermined future, and silent pain that only a miracle could break through all that rock and ice to reach into that dark fading soul.

The Dark Lord rose in one graceful, fluid motion. He smiled sinisterly down at the pale couple, frightened, despairing, every last bit of glamour gone from them. It was hard to believe that they had once been the ones calling the shots, that they had been the ones sneering down at the rest as though commons were no better than dirt. Voldemort loved their humiliation. He raised his wand with a lazy motion.

And the curse fell from his lips.

"_Imperio_."

Lucius Malfoy's went blank, went mad, wonderfully, blissfully, _hideously_ mad. Narcissa screamed as her husband for one last time laid hands on her body, around her white neck, closing off the oxygen that enabled life. _How ironic_, Draco managed to think though the fog burning though his vision, his mind, soul and heart. The love of his mother's life was choking the life out of her.

Narcissa's body thrashed, and her mouth gaped. Her eyes held unimaginable pain as her lover forced her soul out of her parted lips. After what seemed like hours, her body fell backwards, face fist toward Draco, her beautiful golden hair a wild mass of groping fingers on the dark carpet. A single trickle of blood dripped from her lips.

Draco couldn't speak, he couldn't feel. Inside his walls, that ice heart cracked evermore. But with a twitch of his wand the Dark Lord retraced his curse. Lucius screamed, howled, at the ceiling, trying to find an answer, a reason. His own wife, his tender love, dead by his own hands. A derisive snicker sounded through the Eaters at his pain, initiated by Bellatrix, Narcissa's own sister.

The Lord's slashed and twisted mouth smiled again, or at least twisted into a semblance of that expression. He conjured a silver knife and handed it to Lucius. Gently, almost lovingly, he once again murmured "_Imperio_."

And Lucius, his wife's blood fresh on his hands, accepted the gift with gratitude. The silver slice of moonlight was all Draco could see for a while. In and out, it weaved a tantalizing dance through the pale skin of his father. A spurt of crimson regret from here, a drip of scarlet remorse there, blood came in torrents from his father. The Death Eaters backed away from the rain of blood, from the blade that gave pain but not death. It was only when there could not possibly be more blood, when Lucius Malfoy's demise had surely come; the Dark Lord lifted the curse. Lucius blinked down at himself, at the blood running in rivers down his skin, and he turned to his son, pale thin lips mouthing the only apology he ever made in his life.

"_I'm sorry…."_

And Lucius Malfoy was no more.

Draco did not know when he was released from his bonds and dumped unceremoniously onto the ground. He crawled though the river of blood sinking into his robes on his hands and knees, dirtying his skin, got his fingers tangled in his mother's now blood red hair and took his place between the only woman he had any love for and the only man he had any respect for. Like a little child, he buried his head into his mother's bosom. He could hear the Death Eaters laughing at him, but he didn't care. His mother's skin was still soft and warm. He ought to be screaming out his grief, letting it out with the tears people cried…but he couldn't quite remember how.

"Now, for you…"

Draco Malfoy closed his eyes, welcoming the end that the Dark Lord would gladly provide for him.

"_Crucio_."

Pain, Malfoy could take. God, or whatever the hell was out there, knew that he had had more than enough of this sensation in sixth year. The Cruciatious Curse was painful, but he had learned to control the pain, to enjoy it even. Pain was a common thing in his world now. No screams made it past his burning throat. The agony ripped in with its shadow claws, but his body did not thrash.

He was a corpse.

He remembered when he had received the Dark Mark on his left forearm. Merlin, how it had hurt. He'd screamed, cried and carried on for hours to come, making his mother soothe him over and over like he was a little child. What a coward he had been. What a pathetic being. Now, he had grown, he had matured. He was now able to take the pain…and accept it.

Displeased and slightly disturbed, the Dark Lord finally withdrew the curse and thoughtfully twirled his wand for a moment.

"Have your way with him."

Daggers were drawn from hilts. Footsteps were coming closer. But he curled his arms more tightly around his mother and ignored it all.

The blows and stabs on his body were nothing but a stone on the cobbled and broken pathway of darkness, of relief. The Eaters, frenzied with the need to hear him scream, to hear him beg, did all they could to break him. Kicks and punches broke and bruised his body. Flashing daggers nested inside him, only to be redrawn and made to find a new home. But after what seemed like hours, the followers all stepped back to their proper places.

The carnage was truly and amazing thing to behold. Three lives, ended here tonight. All of them painful, horrible, gruesome beyond belief. Blood was an ocean, staining the darkness. Many wrinkled their noses at Draco's mangled body. It was hard to believe that he could still be alive after so much torture.

The Dark Lord turned away, his thin slash of mouth still held up in a grotesque smile, "Severous, dispose of the body. Leave the wand there too."

"Yes, my Lord." Severous Snape stepped forward and retrieved the still, bloody thing lying between the bodies of his parents. With a look of disgust he levitated it and took it outside.

**000**

Brown eyes were anxiously looking into the sky, and pale fingers twisted themselves into a complex knot as Hermione Granger waited for her owl. The owl from Hogwarts that would either make her year or break her heart.

She sighed. She knew it was stupid to worry. She had the top grades in almost all her classes, and her behavior was below complaint. Of course she had the Head Girl position.

After much debating, she, Harry, and Ron had decided to go back to Hogwarts. What else could they do? They had no clue where to look for the other Horcruxes, or what they might be. She had no books, no information. Harry himself was at lost for what he wanted to do. And she really, _really_ wanted to take her NEWTs, no matter how selfish the desire was. Besides, Hogwarts was probably the best place to start looking.

She checked her watch and sighed. It was 10 AM now. It was time to leave this empty house forever and meet up at Grimmauld Place. Her eyes filled with tears at the thought of the parents that had been beside for seventeen years of her life, of the parents that she had had to send far, far away with no memory of the daughter they'd raised. But what mattered was that they were safe now, far away from the dark clutches of Voldemort.

She picked up the bags she had packed long ago. She was ready. Ready to throw herself completely into the darkness. Ready to stand with Harry and fight till the end.

With a graceful twirl of her petite body, she was Apparating to her destination.

"Hermione, Hermione!" Ron ran up to her the moment she appeared in the dank hallway. She dropped her bags and felt her face break into a smile at the sight of her month long boyfriend.

"Hello Ron." She gave him a hug. He returned it briefly and began pulling her down the hallway. Now that she looked, she realized that there was a strained expression on Ron's face.

"Ron? What's – oh my God!"

They had entered the room. And there, lying on the bed was none other than the notorious Draco Malfoy.

But this wasn't Malfoy, how could it be? No one could live through such wounds, yet his chest rose and fell with every strangled breath he took. Deep scratches were dug into his arms, as well as deep knife wounds in his stomach and chest, where blood rose and ebbed like a wave. His pale chest was purple and black, as was his face. His hair was nearly a crimson red from the blood that dyed it. Both arms were bent at strange angles, and one of the bones stuck through his flesh, a startling white, more blood streaming from the rent in his skin. It was also obvious he had broken ribs, as here and there, another piece of bone peaked out to meet the light. Hermione felt her eyes go wide and tear up as she tried to contain the nausea.

Harry was hiding in a corner. He went to her and placed his arms around her, pulling her and Ron aside as Molly, Arthur, Tonks, and Lupin ran in, wands held high, bottles of various potions in their hands. Molly saw the three of them standing there, transfixed at Draco's mangled body and ordered them out, which they immediately did so, closing the door behind them.

Hermione's face was white, and her hands were shaking. Ron pulled her into himself and gave her a kiss she did not feel. Harry began talking.

"Tonks found him in the alley not far from here when she was taking a walk. She found a note on him that said 'To whoever may find this pitiful bastard, let it be known that he is a failure and a disappointment to the Dark Lord and this is his punishment' and his wand was in his hand. She immediately brought him here and called Mrs. And Mr. Weasley. She and Lupin were staying here until they'd gotten their wedding together. We don't know what to do with him."

"What do you mean?" whispered Hermione.

"Well, he's a Death Eater. But it's obvious he's been kicked out. Tonks and Lupin want to see if they can get him to answer any of their questions about Voldemort. But we don't even know if he will live," said Ron quietly.

"If he will live," repeated Hermione dully. "He only has wounds that can be healed, right? Broken bones, and cuts?"

"We don't know the full extent of the damage." Harry sighed, messing his hand though his hair. He wasn't quite sure what to feel. That was a childhood enemy lying there, as well as a Death Eater. But after seeing him like that…he wasn't sure what to think about it.

"Slimy git," mumbled Ron, slightly remorseful, "Always making trouble."

"How dare you say that!" gasped Hermione, "he's could die!"

"Evil doesn't die!" growled Ron, "It just sleeps!"

Hermione pushed him off of her, "You're so cruel!" her cry was so loud, Mrs. Black woke up and started to scream. Hermione took advantage of their distraction and ran up the stairs, to the room she used to sleep in. no one else was in it, so she assumed that Ron was the only one that came with his family, although she couldn't imagine why.

She threw herself onto the bed and buried her face in the musty pillow.

God, that sight had shaken her to the core. Yes, Malfoy was a bastard. But even a bastard did not deserve that. She was sure of it. So what had he done?

**000**

Malfoy let out a low moan and forced his dry eyes to crack open. The bright light stabbed his sensitive pupils so violently he closed them again. Was he dead? Merlin, he hoped he was.

"So, you're finally awake."

He snapped his head to the side, eyes fully open now. Shock shook through him. Lupin the werewolf sat there, grayish brown hair hanging in his face.

"You!" Malfoy spat out. He jerked himself upright, and then hissed in agony as his body protested. The covers flew off his naked chest and he took in the bed he was lying in and the bland room they trapped him in. Lupin stood up and forced him back down. "What am I doing here? Why am I not dead?"

"We found you, nearly dead from blood loss in an alley. Please don't move. We managed to heal most of you, but I'm sure there's still damage…"

"Bloody fuck, you should have let me _DIE_!" the last word was howled out with so much emotion and pain that Lupin back away uneasily. But as soon as the last echo of his voice died away, Malfoy stopped fighting and dropped his head, curing his knees up and wrapping his pale arms around himself. After a moment, he looked up again, chilling Lupin with the silver gray eyes of his.

"Well, werewolf. Do tell. Where am I and why am I here?" he dropped his vulnerable stance and flopped back into the bed with all the grace of a lord telling his servant to clean his manor. Lupin tensed but still answered politely.

"We found you in an alley. This is Grimmauld Place, and you are – "

"In the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," interrupted Draco in a curiously dead voice, "I know. Snape spilled his guts. Am I allowed to leave?"

"You are not. Most likely, Voldemort thinks you're dead. If you leave you will be killed."

"My wand? Where is it?"

"We can't give it to you. But it's safe."

Draco turned away from him and stared at the blank wall. After a while, Lupin quietly exited the room leaving him alone to deal with the dark demons raging inside of him.

Draco heard the door close behind himself and he swung out of the bed, attempting to stand up. Pain stabbed his legs from the healed dagger wounds and mended broken bones, but he didn't care. And perhaps it was an after effect of that Cruciatious Curse Voldemort had used on him. He swayed a bit as he stood, but he managed to stumble over to a table forgotten in the corner of the small, drab room. A pile of black folded robes lay upon it, and he put them on grimacing at the course feeling. He was used to silk and such other soft materials. But no matter. He had to devise an escape plan. It was useless to try to Apparate, he knew. _They_ would have prepared against that.

He pushed up the sleeves of his robe and looked down at his once flawless white arms and smiled bitterly. Scars of every shape and size covered him. They were just as pale as the rest of him, but they stood up, raised against his skin. He traced one of them, and wished that it was pouring out blood, pouring out his red blood.

Now, he wondered why he had always fussed over blood purity. The people the Dark Lord had forced him to torture; their blood was just as red as his. Bright crimson, the Muggleborns and even Mudbloods had. It wasn't black, it wasn't brown. It was red. Just like his. Just like his mothers as she lay there, just like his father's as he cut himself to death. Draco laughed bitterly, an edge to the sound.

These scars were fitting of him, Draco finally mused. Scars of his sins. Scars of his life. His penance as he lived, proof of the fact that he had escaped the spelled death Voldemort bestowed on him. The careless bastard. He had forgotten to _Avada Kedavra_him, so great was the Dark Lord's jubilance at his pain.

But his mother and his father, Draco would never be able to gain back no matter what he did as payback. Their blank eyes, one set blue, one set gray, would haunt him forever more, taunting him as they seemed to whisper '_you failed us, you failed us Draco'_.

He closed his steel eyes and did his best to ignore the waves of agony that lapped the walls of his iron fortress.

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**Hope you enjoyed the first chapter of_ Spelling Death_. Please leave a review. Until next time.**


	2. Valuable

**Title: Spelling Death**

**Author: Thorned Shadow**

**Rated: T**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, merely the story line.**

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Hermione Granger swung herself out of bed and went downstairs, looking for Ron and Harry. She wanted to analyze the situation with them some more. And she was still confused about what they would do from here. Were they going to stay at Grimmauld Place for the summer or go back to the Burrow?

As she passed the kitchen, she heard whisperings. Pausing, and making sure she wasn't stepping on any creaky boards, she pressed her ear to the door to hear.

"….can't trust him. We won't ever be able to. I say to just lock him here and be done with it. He is Lucius's son after all."

"But Arthur, he was nearly dead in the alleyway! I'm quite sure he just needs a bit of guidance."

"Guidance! Molly, he's a Death Eater himself! Did you not see his arm?"

"That's enough," cut in Lupin, "I've spoken to the boy. It seems like he just wants a bit of time to himself."

"From what?" Arthur shouted, "You want us to leave him alone so he can conjure up some more plans to kill some people on the Order? He was about to kill Dumbledore. This was obviously a ruse! He wasn't dead, the Dark Mark wasn't set up, and it's obvious this was a trap!"

Hermione couldn't stand to hear anymore. She crept down the hallway, her soft brown eyes swimming with tears. Her brain muddled, she ducked into the first room she saw.

"What is it, Mudblood?" a derisive sneer cut into her ears. She whirled around to see Draco Malfoy reclining regally on the bed, his face twisted with disgust. Blood still remained in his hair in stark contrast with the beautiful platinum color, and a light scar ran down his neck. There were more vicious scars as well as snaking down his arms. Magic could heal the wounds, but not the healed over skin. His face was haggard with pain, but it snapped up the cold mask she was used to at the sight of her. His eyes were the burning silver color of a moonlit blade, ready to strike, ready to make you bleed.

"I – I – " she stammered.

"If you have nothing intelligent to say, get out of my room." Malfoy dismissed her easily and turned away. She saw his white hands tighten on his arms, and the scars that marred them. She was a naturally compassionate person. She couldn't help the next words that came out of her mouth. "Are you okay?"

Malfoy whipped his head around again, gray eyes wide with shock. Then they narrowed and became the slits she was used to. But different too. They used to hold mere arrogance and superiority. Now, they held something much darker. Cold, cruel. Cynical and ready to push anyone out.

This Malfoy was different, she realized. This Draco Malfoy would wound you as horribly as he could and not care. This Malfoy wasn't the cowardly whiner she had put up with the last six years. He was something much, much more dangerous now. Yet, underneath it all, he was broken. Fragile. Trying to hold himself together.

"You don't give a bloody damn about me, and you know it, Granger. Stop being little Miss Perfection and Kindness. Just get out."

"But what did you do?" she persisted, "What did you do to deserve this?"

For the first time, his steel eyes melted and became something more vulnerable. She could see the underlying pain inside of them. Secrets and sights that no one should be subject to, he had seen them all. He seemed to have aged a hundred years. But he made no answer and no move, and she was unable to speak with the shock at the sight of this Malfoy, and just as suddenly the mask was back. She came closer to him and repeated her question, suddenly feeling her heart go out to him despite herself, remembering the way they'd found him, covered with wounds, "What did you do to deserve this?"

Malfoy remained silent. Suddenly, he looked very weary. "I'm tired, Granger. Get out." He slumped under his covers and rolled over on his side, away from Hermione. She wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. Her anger ablaze, she stalked forward and ripped his covers back.

"Draco Malfoy! The one time I try to be civil to you, you snub me! I was just trying to be nice, you Death Eater scum!"

That was a mistake, she realized as soon as the words slipped out of her mouth. A horrid mistake. Malfoy's back tensed, he rolled around to face her and sprang to his feet, grabbing Hermione's wrist in a painful grip. She gasped and tried to back away as his strong grip almost snapped the delicate bones.

"You know nothing about me," hissed the Slytherin Prince, eyes wide and shooting silver sparks, "You don't know what I've done. The people I've hurt. The things I've seen. Try getting your parents killed right in front of your eyes, see if you like that! You think I wanted to be a Death Eater? I was just a bloody pawn in the Dark Lord's bloody game! He made me one of _them _just so he could make my father and mother suffer! And a fat lot of good it did them, they're dead now. Dead as I watched them and most likely – " he trailed off, all the fire vanishing. He let go of her wrist and she stepped backwards, massaging the bruised bones.

Malfoy sank back into his sheets and straightened his spine, once again assuming the rigid and proud posture he'd always possessed. Footsteps thundered and a moment later, Tonks, Lupin, Molly, Arthur, Harry and Ron burst into the room, firing questions.

"What happened?"

"We heard voices, Hermione are you all right?"

"Did you do something to her, you git? Hey speak up!"

"You watched your parents die?" her pained whisper broke through all the shouts. Everyone stared at her. She had her focus only trained on Malfoy.

"You watched your parents die?" the words fell again from her lips as though she couldn't believe it.

"Lucius is dead?" mumbled Arthur Weasley, astounded.

Draco didn't answer, didn't speak. He looked as though he were carved out of stone. A regal statue that nothing could hurt, that the decay would start within and eventually consume.

Finally, his lips moved and his voice was very even and controlled as he said, "Yes. Lucius is dead. So is Narcissa. Your precious _Order_ doesn't have to worry about them anymore." His derisive tone was back by the end of his statement.

Gasps sounded all around, and Draco clenched his fists. Harry and Ron exchanged horrified looks. Hermione stepped forward, half holding her arms out in comfort, she simply couldn't help the pain and pity that welled up inside herself for him, "Oh Draco…."

"Don't touch me," an icy blast of anger shot through her, making her back away, "Don't even think about it, you dirty Mudblood."

"Don't call her that!" yelled Ron, ready to fight. Draco raised his lips in a sneer, but didn't bother commenting back.

_He always does that_, Hermione realized with a start, _just when people begin to let him in, he does something to push them away._

"Let's go," mumbled Harry after an awkward silence. They all began to file out of the room, but Hermione hung back. She opened her mouth to try and say something, but closed it quickly. Draco shot her a withering look and turned away.

"I don't want you pity, you disgusting filth."

Her temper flashed and pushed out all other thoughts, "Good, because I wasn't about to give it, you foul ferret."

Draco shrugged, taking on an apathetic attitude. "Just get out Granger."

"Fine!" nose in the air, she stalked from the room, slamming the door behind her. She turned back around and shouted through the wood, "We just wanted to help! Is that really so bad? Do you really have it all so together than you can deal with it on your own? Don't you want to see your parents' death brought to justice?"

She knew she'd made another mistake when the door flew open again and the tall lean Draco was in her face, his teeth bared in anger, "Don't talk shit, Granger. I can deal with it on my own; I've always done it on my own. I'll kill the Dark Lord myself! I don't need any of your goddamn help."

"And how are you going to do that?" she taunted, "Voldemort's died before! And look, he came right back to life. We know why. Do you?"

For the first time, doubt and uncertainty came over Draco's face. They stared into each other's eyes, cinnamon and silver, unwilling to yield. Eventually, Malfoy backed away, shutting the door and shutting her out.

**000**

He didn't need her help, he though savagely as he paced the room. He knew the Dark Lord better than almost anyone; he didn't need their bloody help. He'd do this by himself, or die trying.

And what good would his death be? His mother and father were the sacrificial lambs; would they die for nothing if he followed them to the grave? His fingernails dug into his palms as he clenched his fists. No, he'd make sure that his gentle mother's death was brought to justice. Lucius, he respected, maybe even loved, but Lucius….he shook his head. He didn't want to think about it. He would not risk his life for his father, who had always used his son as an excuse to get his way.

Merlin, he was so lost. The blood filled images kept coming back….and back…and back. He shut his eyes tightly and tried to drown them out. But they wouldn't go.

The rain of blood from his father. The last strangled gasp of his mother. Over and over and over and over, they ringed in his head. _Draco, you must live! Do you understand me? Live, and live without these lies Lucius and I have buried ourselves with! I'm sorry….Draco! Live! Sorry! Lies! Draco…Draco…Draco…_

"GET OUT!" he suddenly shouted, "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" he slammed his fist into the stone wall with too much force and yelled again as the bones in it shattered. But it felt surprisingly…good. All his concentration went to the smoldering pain in his right hand. The endorphins produced from the pain made his head rush and his blood quicken…an exhilarating feeling.

He heard his room's door smash open again, and he stood up, quite calmly considering the situation, and addressed the shocked Golden Trio, "What?"

"Your lousy shouting brought us here," growled Ron. Draco shrugged as though without a care in the world and said, "I'm really quite fine. You can all leave now."

"No we can't!" shouted Hermione, pointing at his hand, "What on earth did you do?"

Draco shrugged again. Lupin came forward and gently took a look at his hand before tapping it. Draco barely winced as the bones snapped together again. Lupin looked at him with tired eyes as he finished healing the bones.

"Don't do it again, or else we'll have to confine you to the bed."

Draco rolled his eyes and flopped back onto the bed without another word. Everyone turned to leave.

"Oi, Potter."

Harry stopped and turned around. Hermione and Ron hesitated as well.

"The Dark Lord. What do you know about him?"

"Like I'd tell you," snarled Harry. Draco smirked.

"Tell me, and I'll tell you. Maybe I have something you want."

"I don't want anything from you," said Harry automatically. Draco laughed. It was a bitter, cruel sound.

"Potter, you basically want revenge for your parents. So do I. Quit being a stubborn bastard. You know, as well as I that we're both quite valuable to each other."

"How are you valuable to us?" questioned Hermione as Harry and Ron merely looked incredulous at his audacity.

"Let's see, I'm rich, so rich that I could bathe in gold dust morning, noon and night for the rest of my life and not even make a dent in the Malfoy fortune. I've got a roomful of Dark artifacts hidden under my drawing room floorboards, and I know how to work them. I've also got a whole library section filled with the Dark Arts, about magic so vile it would make your eyes bleed. Magic that the Dark Lord loves to abuse." His piercing eyes sought them for a moment before returning to stare at the wall, "Besides, I've been close to Voldemort. I know how he operates. Just because you listen to some loony old coot and have mad vision powers does not mean you know him." The last words were a jibe at Harry. Harry didn't seem to hear them, however. He was chewing his lip thoughtfully.

"What's this about the books on Dark Arts?"Asked Hermione sharply. "Have you read them? What's in them?"

Draco snorted in a very unrefined manner and lounged comfortably on his bed, "What's in them? Magic that will chill you to the core. How to strangle your enemy with his intestines, how to make someone's blood suffocate themselves, how to rip out a person's bone shards and direct them like daggers, how to take your soul apart so you will never die – "

"What?" shrieked Hermione. Harry and Ron looked thunderstruck as well, "What was that last one."

Draco had closed his eyes in contentment as he relished the horrible tortures he had learned. Now, he lazily opened one eye and stared at the three's excited, breathless faces, "What was that? You mean that last bit? We had a book devoted to Horcuxes, that's a magical container that contains a piece of your soul, in case your brains were too meagerly built to handle the information." His eye slid shut again.

"Tell us about those," demanded Harry. Draco just quirked up one side of his mouth, "You wish, Potter."

Ron swelled like a bullfrog, but Harry spoke calmly, "We need to know more about Horcruxes, Malfoy. It's very important."

"Is this an extra credit Defense Against the Dark Arts project? Because I really don't think that ripping your soul apart will help…" Draco paused in his slander and jerked himself upright. His face became cold and demanding. It was also inhuman in its excitement. "Hocruxes." His voice was hoarse with the discovery. "Hocruxes!" he stood up, wobbling slightly and glared at Harry, "You know something."

"I do." Harry stated it calmly. The lion and the serpent locked eyes and did not look away. Finally, Draco spoke again.

"Give me my wand, and let me Apparate to Malfoy Manor. You three lowlifes can come as well. Trust me; though I loathe saying it, it'll be worth your time. But I expect payment in return. You will tell me everything you know. And everything I have is at liberty for you to use until the Dark Lord falls."

"Give us a second," Ron said, pulling the three of them into a huddle outside Malfoy's door. "You can't do this!" he hissed at Harry, "We don't know what he's capable of."

"He's also our only hope," moaned Hermione, "I have no idea what else to do about the Hocruxes, I only know what Harry told me. We need information!"

"Besides," whispered Harry, "How are we going to get the cup, locket, snake, and whatever Ravenclaw has? He has money. If we come across people who have them, we may be able to buy it. He's also influential, despite whatever happened. His threatening will work. Malfoy's an important tool. We can't dispute that."

"I suppose not," whimpered Hermione. Harry knew she was envisioning spending months with Draco Malfoy and his insults. He didn't like this anymore than she did.

"Don't worry Hermione, I'll protect you," Ron wrapped an arm possessively around her waist. She hung limp in his grip, too stressed to do anything.

"Have you girls finished debating yet?" the familiar cool drawl broke the little conversation. "I do hope you understand I am also at loathe acknowledging that you three will actually be useful for once." The three of them glared at Draco.

"Not until we feed you some Veritaserm," said Ron. Malfoy smirked, but waited. They stared at each other for a long moment.

"Well," he spoke up, making them start, "Go get some."

"We don't have any here," said Harry somewhat apologetically, "Our Headquarters isn't here anymore. It's not safe because Dumbledore gave us the all secret. It's just a house, now."

"Right, whatever," sneered Draco. His face twisted as he tried to decide something.

"Can we use a Pensive?" asked Hermione, but Draco struck at her like a serpent, "My memories are my own! Back off, Mudblood!"

"Hey!" roared Ron, and Harry missed grabbing his best friend as he threw himself at Malfoy. Malfoy easily dodged it, he'd become the expert at avoiding blows whilst hanging out with the Death Eaters who all thought he was a naughty child that needed to be spanked, and when Ron righted himself and faced him again, stuck squarely on his cheekbone, sending him flying backwards.

"Stop it!" shrieked Hermione as Ron scrambled upwards and made for Malfoy again. A completely unfazed Malfoy dodged as though he were the red curtain in front of the angry bull, the blankest expression on his face.

"Enough!" roared a new voice, and Arthur Weasley came charging up, grabbing Ron by the shoulders. Ron struggled in his grip and his mother took this opportunity to tell him off. A nasty looking bruise was forming on his cheek. Molly took out her wand to heal it as Hermione faced Tonks and Lupin.

"We need some Veritaserm," she implored, "We need to know that Malfoy is telling the truth."

Lupin smiled for the first time that evening and nodded at Tonks, who disappeared immediately into the kitchen and returned carefully carrying a wooden box that she always kept with her. Everyone winced as she stumbled on the rat nibbled carpet but then relaxed as she had not dropped anything.

Arthur jabbed his wand into Malfoy's throat a few times looking to see if he was using the counter curse for Veritaserm. Although the pokes were painful, Malfoy didn't even bat an eye, let alone wince. Arthur finally reassured himself and motioned to Lupin who had the dosage ready in a dropper. Malfoy took it, shot them all a withering look, and dripped the drops directly into his mouth.

He looked back up at them, and if possible, his eyes were blanker than before. Arthur immediately began asking questions.

"What happened between you and You-Know-Who?"

"I was being punished for my failure of killing Dumbledore," stated Malfoy listlessly.

"What happened to your parents?"

"The Dark Lord killed them."

"What did he do to you?"

"He tortured me to the point of death and left me to die." The voice was monotone, as if he didn't really give a damn about his death.

"Are you baiting us?"

"No."

"Where are the other Death Eaters?"

"Last time I saw them, we were having a meeting in the old Lestrange Manor. They'd fixed it up just for the Dark Lord. He didn't want to stay in ours. A failure's home makes everyone a failure."

"Are you really not one of the Death Eaters anymore?"

"No, I'm not. I failed to kill Dumbledore, I failed the Dark Lord. He has no use for the likes of me."

The group looked at one another uneasily. What should they ask him now before the effect of the potion wore off? Malfoy stared back at them dully. He didn't seem to have any suggestions.

"What are Voldemort's latest plans?" asked Tonks finally. Malfoy just shrugged.

"Quite honestly, I have no idea. To wreck as much havoc as he can, I guess. By the way, the dementors have all deserted Azkaban and five giants have swelled Voldemort's ranks. Might be interesting info for you."

"We didn't know that," murmured Harry as Hermione inhaled sharply, "Why didn't the Daily Prophet tell us?"

Malfoy just snorted, "Because they don't want everyone to 'panic' Potter. Any idiot could surmise as much."

And they had to agree he was correct.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed the second installment of Spelling Death. Please leave some feedback.**


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